


The Tattered Type

by Tyranno



Category: Bleach, Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Human, Crossover, Gen, Ichigo becomes a host, this the second time ive written that lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo has a long list of problems: he lives too far from his family, he can't keep a job and school work, he's too battered to attend kendo matches, and, not to mention he can't really afford the school he's attending.And to top it all off, somehow he's become... a host?





	The Tattered Type

**Author's Note:**

> This is a weird one because it's kind of a re-write of [The Tragic Type](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4039864/chapters/9086503) but it has a different plot, which I wrote over two years ago. The tragic type, is, a bit tragic... it's not very good. But I love it still. 
> 
> anyway, enjoy.

Polite chatter and the warm, subtle aroma of expensive tea filled the air. Summer sun streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the salmon pink stone floors. A student laughed girlishly, tea cup chinking. Tamaki jumped up and span, before tilting a girl’s chin up to stare into her wide eyes. She screamed in delight. 

Kyoya turned back to his black book, but stilled when he noticed someone standing on the other side of the table. 

It was a tall boy, around Mori’s age, with a shocking crown of spiked orange hair. He was athletic, muscle-bound and stood with a kind of easy grace. His chin was strong and his eyes were sharp. While his black trousers and jacket were school uniform, his shirt was a simple polo, without a tie.

“Oh,” Kyoya pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You must be Kurosaki Ichigo.”

Ichigo lifted his head, “How did you know?” 

“Your reputation proceeds you. I must say, it’s a surprise to see you outside of the library,” Kyoya said. He closed his book and leaned back in his chair, “Are you here to book an appointment with one of the hosts?” 

“Uh… In a way,” Ichigo frowned, “I want to talk to Fujioka, whenever she’s free. I’ll just wait around.” 

“I’m afraid that you need to book an appointment,” Kyoya said, opening his book again, “It looks like he’s pretty fully booked at the moment. There’s an online auction for priority selection, of course.” 

Ichigo’s scowl deepened. “Look, we went to middle-school together and I only just found out she got into Ouran. I just want to catch up, not have a weird host appointment.” 

“Be that as it may,” Kyoya said, smoothing his page down. “We can’t just hand out appointments as we please. It may not look like it, but the hosts are working. Any disruption—”

“Ichigo!” Haruhi leaped up from her table and sprinted over. She stopped just short of running into him, and gave him a once-over. “Hey, it’s really you! I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

“Fujioka,” Ichigo beamed and then ruffled her hair, “Man, did you get shorter, pipsqueak?!” 

Haruhi batted his hands away, “Cut it out! That’s not fair!” 

Ichigo grinned and released her. “Your hair looks nice. It’s cute short,” He said. 

“Thanks you,” Haruhi said, settling her hair back with a slight flush. She turned to Kyoya, “Hey, Kyoya, would it be okay if Ichigo sat with me for the next hour?” 

Kyoya’s eyebrow twitched. “He doesn’t have an appointment...” 

“My next one cancelled,” Haruhi said, “Besides, it’s more like a break than an appointment.” 

Kyoya’s lips thinned. By all rights, he should have turfed Kurosaki out already, before Haruhi even laid eyes on him, but it was too late now. “I suppose,” He said, finally. 

“Great!” Haruhi said, and snatched Ichigo’s wrist, dragging him over to her table, “You should really try these cakes! They’re amazing.” 

“I’ve eaten cake before,” Ichigo protested. 

“Not these cakes,” Haruhi said, pulling out a chair for him, “They’re a whole new thing.” 

 

*

 

“Tamaki?” One of the girls asked gently, putting her cake fork down. Her long black hair spilled over her front like ink. 

Tamaki jumped, and turned his full attention on her. “Oh! Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” 

“You were looking at Haruhi,” The other girl said, putting a hand over her mouth mischievously. Her hair was bundled up in two large brown ringlets. She stared over at the other table, hair falling over her ears. “I must say, it is curious. They might both be scholarship students, but does he really think Haruhi will be interested in him?” 

Haruhi seemed deep in conversation with the carrot-top boy. She pulled her chair in and stretched an arm over the tabletop, to rest her hand on top of his. Her dark eyes were filled with light. 

The first girl smiled, taking a sip of her tea. “Maybe he’s not so wrong,” She said. 

Tamaki took a big gulp of his tea. 

 

*

 

By the time the other hosts were packing up, saying goodbye to clients, Ichigo and Haruhi were still talking. Haruhi’s expressive, dark eyes were sad. She was frowning. They weren’t quite holding hands, but Haruhi had pressed both of her hands around Ichigo’s. 

“They’re pretty close,” Hikaru said, setting an empty tea pot on a cart. 

“Yeah, who is he anyway?” Kaoru asked. His mirror image pulled out a tea tray from under his arm and dumped it on the cart.

“He looks like a thug,” Tamaki said, a darkness over his pretty features. 

“He’s Ichigo Kurosaki,” Kyoya said, opening his black book. “He’s a scholarship student in Mori’s year. I noticed that they both attended Karakura’s public middle school, but didn’t really take note of it. Apparently they are childhood friends.” 

“Childhood—?” Tamaki jolted, like he’d been struck. “So he had a head start!!” 

“Yeah, he probably knows a lot about her,” Kaoru said, and Hikaru nodded. “Stuff she’d never tell us,” Hikaru said. 

Tamaki froze. 

“I wonder what they’re talking about...” Honey said, tucking a stuffed rabbit behind his back. 

Across the room, Ichigo stood up. He snagged his bag from behind the chair and threw it over his shoulder. Haruhi said something and he paused, almost guiltily. 

She hugged him. It was a tight hug, her nose buried in his cheap shirt, arms tense. Ichigo stood for a moment, Haruhi around his middle, before hugging her back. His frown only grew deeper. 

“They’re hugging!” Tamaki hissed, waving an arm. “Why are they hugging?!” 

“Beats me,” said the twins. 

Haruhi released him. Tears finally broke in her eyes, and she rubbed them away, grimacing. Ichigo patted her on the top of the head. Haruhi walked him to the door, rubbing her eyes. They said goodbye and the door shut. 

Silence. 

“Who was that?!” Tamaki bellowed, sprinting over, “You can’t allow strange men to entice you!!” 

“He’s not strange,” Haruhi said, with a slight glare. “I’ve known him for much longer than you guys.” 

Tamaki whimpered, leaping back. “S-still!” He hissed. 

“You met him in middle-school, right?” Kaoru asked. Hikaru leaned on his shoulder, “When you were back in Karakura.” 

“Yeah,” Haruhi said, “Well… I was mainly friends with his little sisters. They were a few years younger than me but we all lost our mothers at a similar time. Plus when you’re in Karakura friends are hard to make.” 

“Of course!” Tamaki said, recovering in record speed, “This was a purely one-time, platonic reunion!” 

“Well, platonic, sure,” Haruhi scratched the back of her neck, “But I don’t know about one-time. It was great seeing him again. Could he come back next time?” 

“No,” Kyoya said, firmly. 

All eyes found him. 

Kaoru frowned, “Why not?” 

Kyoya shut his book, “I’m afraid the host club must maintain a certain level of class in their clientele,” He said. “Kurosaki doesn’t meet our standards.” 

“Hey!” Haruhi snapped. 

“Kyoya!” Tamaki yelped, “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?! I know he’s a commoner—”

“It’s not that,” Kyoya frowned very lightly. “It’s his criminal record.” 

Tamaki stared. 

“Criminal…?” Hikaru echoed, stunned. 

Haruhi bit her lip. 

“Ichigo Kurosaki has been charged with several counts of assault and battery, including several where the other party ended up hospitalised,” Kyoya said. He raised an eyebrow. “I believe he was admitted because he was the only student to pass the entrance exam that year for the athletic scholarship. Ouran needs a certain number of scholarship students by law, so his criminal record was hushed up.” 

“Assault?” Tamaki straightened up, shoulders tense, “I was right! My dear Haruhi,” Tamaki wrapped his long arms around her, “I should have trusted my instincts and kicked him out the moment I laid eyes on him!” 

“Cut it out!” Haruhi shoved him off. “He’s not like that! Ichigo’s a good guy!” 

“Do good guys get charged with assault?” Hikaru asked, frowning. Kaoru leant heavily on him, “Put people in hospital, actually.” 

“It’s not like that,” Haruhi objected, “Look—you guys wouldn’t understand.” 

“What’s to understand?” Tamaki puffed out his chest, “He’s a brigand!” 

“You’re just being dramatic,” Haruhi huffed. 

“Well, whether or not he is,” Kyoya interjected, “I’m afraid I can’t allow him in.” 

Haruhi sighed, shoulders drooping. “Okay... I guess I can understand that.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m going to the library for a little bit. I’ve got to study.” 

She left, and the room felt a little colder than normal. 

 

*

 

The air in the host club was a little bit thinner than usual. Despite the easy chatter, there was tension in the air, an unease. 

“—and I said that if she…” The customer paused for a moment, blinking. She set her cup of tea down, frowning slightly with thin eyebrows. “Tamaki, are you listening?” 

Tamaki jerked back into the presence, dragging his eyes away, “Oh! Sorry, my good lady,” he said, “I must have gotten distracted. I think I’ve caught something—must be some kind of bug?” 

“It’s about Haruhi, isn’t it?” The customer guessed, a soft look in her eyes. Her bundles of corn-yellow hair spilled over her shoulders, “This is the first time he’s been late. Is he sick too?” 

Tamaki gulped. 

“It’s that punk transfer kid, isn’t it? The one that sat with him yesterday?” a different customer chimed in, a sharpness in her expression, “He’s probably troubling poor Haruhi no end.” 

Tamaki swallowed again, going a little green.

“I’ve heard about him,” The customer continued, sourly, “He’s a real delinquent. You know, he beat my brother in a karate match? Gave him a black eye and a broken nose. My brother swears he must have cheated, doped or something.” 

The first customer worried her bottom lip, twisting her bright yellow hair around her finger, “Oh, is that Kurosaki? I heard he swore at a teacher in first year. He’s always scowling, like he’s about to bite someone.” 

“Yes that’s him,” the second customer frowned, “honestly, bullies like that are why my father’s been pushing for Ouran to stop accepting scholarship students. If they don’t respect the school, they shouldn’t be allowed in.” 

Tamaki stood up suddenly, “Excuse me! I’ve got to go find—!”

Across the room, the door burst open. 

Haruhi stumbled in, breathless and red-faced. “Sorry I’m late!” She darted to her table and began to apologise personally to the guests. 

Tamaki stilled, half-up half-down, watching Haruhi talk hurriedly with her guests. The muscles in his jaw tensed for a moment, before he shook his head slightly and sat back down. 

 

*

 

Lunch. 

The cafeteria was full, but the room was so large that it was hard for it to ever reach noisy. A long chain of people waited patiently for the kitchens, reading the extensive menu as they waited. Hikaru was flipping to the drinks of page of the menu when his brother jabbed him in the spine with his tray. When he looked over, Kaoru jerked his head towards the seating area. 

It took a moment for Hikaru to see the problem, but when he did, he stilled. 

Haruhi wasn’t sitting where she usually was, instead she was tucked away in the corner, talking animatedly with Ichigo Kurosaki. 

Hikaru gripped his tray very tightly. When the chef asked what kind of food he’d like, he gestured to the nearest thing and tried to make him hurry. The second the last spoonful of gourmet pasta hit his plate, he snatched it, storming across the cafeteria. 

Ichigo looked up as he was coming. He was still scowling slightly, but it had toned down to general irritation, and he had no reaction from seeing the twins storm over like hell was on their heels. 

Kaoru slammed the tray down in front of the pair, sending a small splatter of pasta sauce over the plastic table top. His brother slotting in next to him. 

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. 

“Hey, Haruhi~” Kaoru said, leaning over his lunch, “Nice work in mathematics today. You’re so smart.” 

“Did you get our invite to the come to our cabin in the alps this summer?” Hikaru asked, “You should see all that snow, it’s gorgeous. We can go skiing.” 

“Thanks, but I can’t,” Haruhi said, giving him a flat look, “Didn’t I already turn down that invite?” 

“The alps?” Ichigo echoed, rubbing his chin. “That’s gotta cost a lot of money to run.” 

“Oh, it does,” Hikaru preened, “A huge amount more than you’ll see in your lifetime.” 

Ichigo stared at him, flatly. 

“Guys...” Haruhi started. 

“Haru~hi~!!” Tamaki sung, sitting down forcefully next to her, “It’s so good to see you!! You’re looking stunning!” He leaned around her to nail Ichigo with a piercing stare. Ichigo shifted back. 

Kyoya, Mori and Honey settled around the group, all looking, either openly or out of the corner of their eye, at Ichigo. Honey was actually glaring at him, hate in his big, bright eyes. 

Ichigo hesitated, and stood up, scooping the remains of his packed lunch into his back. “I think I’m gonna go the library and study,” He said, slinging the bag back onto his shoulder, “See you around Haruhi.” 

Haruhi narrowed her eyes at the host club and stood up pointedly. “I’m coming with you.” 

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Ichigo said, “Besides you haven’t finished—”

Haruhi grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him out of the cafeteria. 

 

*

 

Haruhi slowed to a stop outside the Host Club door. She stood still, letting the chill of the stone floor seep into her thin shoes. 

The sky outside the tall windows was bright, cloudless and endless. It was the kind of blue that seemed to call to her, tugging on her heartstrings and trying to pull her off the ground. She watched white birds fly across the sweeping grounds, their chirps and calls too far off to hear. 

Haruhi sighed. It felt like there was a band of pressure around her ribs, like a weight pressing on her chest. There was a lump in her throat she couldn’t swallow down. 

The door creaked open, and Mori poked his head around the door. “Haruhi…?” 

Haruhi realised tears were staring to prick in her eyes, and she rubbed them furiously. “I’m fine,” She assured him quickly, pushing past him. 

Mori said nothing, but kept a close eye on her as she entered the club room. 

 

*

 

Luckily for Tamaki, Haruhi left the club room almost immediately after her customers did, so it was easy to arrange a meeting with just the boys of the host club. He pushed four tables together and sat at the head of the table, a grave look on his face. 

“Gentlemen!” He announced, “I believe you all know the situation. Some delinquent has captured hold of our dear Haruhi and it’s our job to rescue her from his claws!” 

“...claws?” Hikaru echoed quietly, raising an eyebrow. 

“That’s right!” Honey said, “He looks really mean!” 

“Well, what can we even do about it?” Kaoru asked, leaning against a pillar. His brother mirrored him perfectly, “That’s right. We can’t stop her hanging out with him.” 

“No...” Tamaki said, frowning. He slammed a palm on the table, “But if we can prove to her that he’s not what he seems—if we can catch him doing something bad she won’t want to hang out with him!” 

“What do you mean, catch him doing bad stuff?” Honey asked, “Like a covert operation?” 

“Spying on him?” Mori asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Haruhi won’t like that,” Kaoru said, warningly. 

“Don’t worry—she won’t find out!” Tamaki said, “So, how about it?” 

Kyoya looked up when he noticed the silence. 

All eyes were on him. 

He sighed and pushed his glasses a little further up his nose. “I can’t see why not.” 

 

*

 

The boys of the prestigious Ouran Highschool Host Club, established by the partnership of the esteemed Kyoya Ootori and the talented Tamaki Suoh, huddled behind the E-F non-fiction bookshelf of the library, nearly sitting on top of each other to make sure they weren’t seen. The librarians shot them confused looks, but thankfully didn’t come over. 

Through the tops of the books, they saw Ichigo Kurosaki pouring over a large biology textbook, his characteristic frown even deeper than usual. He scratched his head and sighed, flipping the page over. 

“He’s not doing anything,” Tamaki whispered, incredulously. 

Kaoru, who was jammed between Tamaki and his brother, grumbled, “What did you expect him to be doing? We’re in a library and he’s studying.”

“We’re actually wasting—” Kyoya stared, but Tamaki shushed him hurried. 

Ichigo unbuttoned his sleeve and started to roll it up. He did the same with the other one, and then stretched, arms catching the light. Thin white scars cut through his forearms, scattered and deep. He scratched them absently. 

“Did you see—?” Tamaki hissed, and was quickly thumped by Hikaru, who accidentally elbowed the pile of books near his knee. 

Ichigo started at the sound. He stared for a moment, and pushed his chair back, standing up. With three long strides he came to the edge of the bookshelf and peered around it. 

But nobody was there. Ichigo shook his head and walked back to his desk. 

Huddled under the librarian’s desk, the host club breathed a collective sigh of relief.

 

*

 

“Well that was a waste of time!” Tamaki burst out, as soon as they were far enough away from the library. They couldn’t leave until a while after Kurosaki had in order to avoid detection, and keeping the exclamation in had clearly pushed Tamaki to breaking point. He stamped up the broad staircase in a huff, footsteps echoing sharply. 

“All we ended up doing was watching him study,” Kaoru said solemnly, his brother linking an arm with him. Hikaru shook his head, “We might has well have been studying.” 

“Did you see those scars?” Honey whispered in Mori’s ear, legs wriggling, “It looked like those hurt.” Mori made a low hum in agreement. 

Tamaki bounded up the last few steps of the sweeping staircase and charged up the next one in a burst of frustrated energy. 

“Honestly, Tamaki, what were you expecting to find?” Kyoya asked, trailing after him, “We were in a library, after all.” 

“Something should have happened...” Tamaki said, “He must have known we were there! That’s why he changed his behaviour, he’s tricking us!” 

Hikaru and Kaoru rubbed their chins. “It’s possible.” 

“Right?!” Tamaki spun on his heel, a light sparkling in his eye, “Everyone always goes on about him—Kurosaki did this, Kurosaki did that, it’s all—” He spun back around and stopped short, “Uhh...” 

Kurosaki stood in front of the host club door. 

“Oh, Hello, Kurosaki,” Kyoya said. 

Ichigo barely glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on Tamaki. “What’s your problem with me?” 

“I don’t have a problem with you,” Tamaki announced, “I have a problem with you and Haruhi being together.” 

“Is that what this’ about?” Ichigo asked, stone-faced, “We’re not ‘together’, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re friends and, frankly, I don’t why that’s any of your business.” 

“It’s my business because I’m her friend too!” Tamaki strode towards him, “And you’re a bad influence! You’re dangerous! I don’t think Haruhi would choose to hang around with a brutish, ugly, common delinquent!” 

Ichigo stared down at him. 

Tamaki stood very still. It wasn’t a stunned silence, but an angry one. He watched a muscle in Ichigo’s jaw jump as he gritted his teeth. His eyes bored straight into Tamaki’s, and for a second Tamaki was afraid Ichigo would hit him. 

Slowly, Ichigo leaned back a little. His hard eyes flitted across the crowd of young men, before returning to Tamaki. Ichigo’s jaw relaxed a little, and he swallowed. 

“I’d never hurt Haruhi,” Ichigo said, voice low, “And I get that you’re protective of her. I understand that. But if you have a problem with me being a ‘common delinquent’, maybe you ought to rethink some things.” 

Tamaki shifted back, a little uneasy, “I didn’t mean—” Ichigo pushed a box into Tamaki’s chest. Tamaki yelped and closed his eyes. When he worked up the nerve to open them again, he turned over the plastic box. It was a lunchbox, filled with what looked like cold curry. “What—?” 

“Give it to Haruhi for me,” Ichigo said. 

Tamaki nodded guiltily. 

“And as far as me being a bad influence,” Ichigo said, pushing past Tamaki, voice low, “I won’t worry about that much longer.” 

Ichigo buried his hands in his pockets, pushing past the rest of the host club and disappearing around the corner. Tamaki stared after him, clutching at the lunch box. 

It was a long time before anyone spoke again. 

“What do you think he meant, about not being here much longer?” Honey whispered. 

“I think he was referring to his scholarship coming to an end soon,” Kyoya supplied helpfully. 

“What?” Tamaki yelped. 

“Well, as Kurosaki’s scholarship is athletics-based, he needs to enter a certain number of events during the school year, and this year he missed too many to properly make up. He hasn’t been attending any training sessions either for the last few months and his total attendance is almost in the red on top of that,” Kyoya explained, flipping through his book, “Presumably he’s been trying to bump up his academics to switch to an academic scholarship, but that looks like it’s unlikely to happen.” 

“So the problem would have solved itself anyway?” Tamaki asked. He passed the lunch-box from one hand to the other, like he didn’t want to be holding it. 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Kyoya said, pushing his glasses further up his nose. 

The door to the host club opened suddenly, and Haruhi poked her head through. “Oh, you’re all already here? Why’s everyone just hanging around outside?”

The small crowd looked at her guiltily. 

“What happened?” Haruhi asked, closing the doors behind her. She glanced at Tamaki and stopped short when she saw the lunchbox. “Hey, that’s Yuzu’s old lunch-box. Why do you have it?” 

Tamaki shifted away from her, sweating slightly. 

“What happened?” Haruhi repeated, more forcefully. 

Honey burst into tears, gripping Mori’s shirt. “Haruhiii!!” He wailed, “I’m sorry!! I shouldn’t have gone along with it, I-I just thought he looked like a bad guy!” 

“You guys are still hung up on Ichigo?” Haruhi rounded on Tamaki, “What did you do to him?” 

Tamaki shrunk away, “I’m sorry Haruhi! It’s just that he’s scary and mean! I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I don’t think he’s a good influence on my daughter!” 

Haruhi snatched the lunch-box from his hands. “I knew it! I knew you guys would judge him just because he looks like a punk!” Haruhi stuffed the lunchbox in her book bag, “I should have expected you guys to try to scare him off—but it’s not fair on him! You don’t know anything about him!” 

“But-but he’s violent,” Tamaki objected feebly, “What about those people he put in hospital?” 

“Those are people who came at him!” Haruhi snapped, “He looked different, so he was bullied his whole life. He got into fights a lot because he stood up for himself!” 

Tamaki opened his mouth to object, but no sound came out. 

“You know the first time I met him... I was about seven and I’d gotten lost in Karakura City. I didn’t know where my dad was and I was crying, then this man came up to me and he was shouting. I don’t remember what. Then Ichigo comes out of nowhere, grabs my hand and starts running. I’m too bewildered to pull away, so I let him drag me all the way back to his house,” Haruhi said, “it turns out I already knew his little sisters because I tutored them, so I could phone my dad from their house, but I found out later that he didn’t know who I was when he grabbed my hand. He just did it.” 

Tamaki closed his mouth. 

Haruhi looked away, “And now he’s going to lose his scholarship not because of any mistake he made, but because a few months ago he went home and got beat up so bad he couldn’t make it to a match or two.” 

“Haruhi, I...” Tamaki started, but his voice ghosted. 

Haruhi glanced at him. There was no anger in her big dark eyes now, only disappointment. She shook her head and pushed past him, “I’m going home.” 

“But the host club—” Kyoya objected. 

“Do it without me!” Haruhi snapped, stalking around the corner. 

The group fell into a deep silence. Someone swallowed. 

“Man, we really messed up,” Kaoru sighed. His brother nodded in agreement. 

“I feel terrible,” Honey whined, “I can’t believe we did that to poor Ichigo! He was just trying to help!!” Honey burst into tears again. Mori rubbed his back comfortingly. 

“Is there even anything we can do?” Tamaki rubbed his eyes hurriedly, “What if we set up our own sports festival and got him to compete. Would that help his quota?” 

“Potentially,” Kyoya said, “but it’s actually worked out as a percentage, rather than a set number of events. We’d have to hold around sixteen events before the end of the school year in order to make up for lost time.” 

“S-sixteen?” Tamaki rubbed his head, “Well, uh… we ought to get started...”

“What about the academics?” Hikaru asked, “Could we help him improve his grades?” 

“Again, not really,” Kyoya said, “Short of taking the tests for him, there’s not a lot we could do in that area. He’s already using the school appointed tutors. The only other way to keep his scholarship would be...” 

Tamaki waited. “What?” 

“Well...” Kyoya frowned slightly, “If he joined a prominent extra curricular activity.” 

“A club,” Honey repeated. 

The boys looked at each other, until all eyes fixed upon Tamaki. He glanced around the gathering, frowning. 

Then, with surprising energy, Tamaki spread his arms, “Then there’s nothing for it!” He announced, “Kurosaki Ichigo must become a Host Club member.”


End file.
